Page 80 of To Hold and Protect

“The woman in his paintings.”

“Um...” There were more paintings of her?

“How exciting to meet his muse. I’m Rebecca, and you are?”

“Willow.” She saw more questions in the woman’s eyes, so she excused herself and lost herself in the crowd. Because yes, the gallery was packed, which made her ridiculously happy for Parker. She eased around the walls, not meeting anyone’s eyes, as she looked for those other paintings of her.

She wished she was the only one in the gallery so she could stop at each piece and study it, but she wasn’t ready to be noticed again. In her search, she came to one that had her stopping. It was the one he’d titledLiberated.And she saw what she’d missed the first time she’d seen it. It was a self-portrait of him as a child, and she wanted to wrap that boy in her arms and keep him safe.

“He captures both the despair and hope of a child who feels unloved,” a man close to her said to his companion.

Yes, he did, and his talent was amazing. She passed several more of his paintings that she wanted to study later as she continued searching for the ones of her. And then she came to them. The first one was titledWillow in Sunflowers,and it stole her breath. She knew she was attractive enough, but he’d made her beautiful as she stood in the middle of a field of sunflowers with a smile on her face, wearing the sundress from the day she’d met him, her straw hat and cowboy boots, and her hair a wild mess blowing behind her. When had he painted it?

The theme of the show was Scenes Through a Window, and unlike the other paintings where the subjects were looking in or out through a window, this one wasn’t like that. Instead, he’d hung an actual distressed window in front of the painting. So clever. And so weird that she wanted to go find a field of sunflowers and dance.

Next to the sunflowers painting was one titledWillow Under Fairy Lights,and she laughed at seeing it. She was sitting on her swing, wearing shorts and her cowboy boots, and her head was thrown back as she all-out laughed. As she stood in a gallery in New York City, looking at a painting of her time with Parker, she longed to be sitting on that swing again with him next to her.

Where was he?

Chapter Thirty-Five

She’s here.Parker leaned against a wall behind Willow, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he watched her stare atWillow in Sunflowers. She was always beautiful, but tonight she was stunning. That she’d chosen to wear an emerald green tux was brilliant. The other women here tonight were wearing sparkly cocktail dresses and gowns, which made Willow unique in comparison. And her hair...it was down and wild, just the way he liked it best.

No woman in the room compared to her, and people were noticing her. Recognition lit some of the faces, those who’d seen the two canvases of her and were realizing she was the girl in them. Others, both men and women, were casting glances at her. He glared at a few of the men who were looking at her as if they wanted to eat her up.Mine.

She stepped to the next painting,Willow Under Fairy Lights. He wished he could see her face as she studied herself on canvas. A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne, and he picked up two flutes.

It felt like dozens of hummingbirds had replaced his heart, it was beating so fast as he approached her. She’d come, and that had to mean something. When she’d told him at the hospital that she was going home in spite of his asking her to stay, he’d been hurt. Like every other woman in his life, she’d left him.

Poor little boy, so unlovable even his mother didn’t want him. It sounded ridiculous now, but that was where his mind had gone when she’d left. Yeah, he’d gotten it wrong with every one of his girlfriends, and that mindset had almost cost him the woman he knew in his heart he could get it right with. And what had he done? Walked away from her, leaving her to believe she didn’t matter.

Well, she did matter, more than he had the words to express, but his love for her was in his paintings, and he’d thought—hoped and prayed—that she’d see that.

He’d spent the first three days after she was gone refusing to talk to anyone except for Everly. Once he got over himself and could think clearly, he’d thought about the things she’d said, and he was able to see it from her perspective. So he gave them both some time. For him, time to plan how to win her back. For her, time to miss him...he hoped.

She was here, so it must have worked. He stopped next to her. “The girl in that painting owns my heart.”

“The boy who painted it owns mine,” she said, not looking at him.

So much joy at hearing her say that sent his heart soaring. Then she did look at him and smiled, and it took all his willpower not to scoop her up in his arms and take her somewhere private so he could show her how much he loved and missed her.

Instead, he handed her one of the flutes. “You look stunning tonight, Willow.” Her lavender scent washed over him, and he wanted to rub his nose over her skin.

“Thank you. You clean up pretty nicely yourself.”

Although Lawrence, the gallery owner, deemed the show a formal affair, Parker figured as the artist he could dress as he pleased. He wore black pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

She turned her attention back to the paintings. “It says they’re sold.”

“They’re mine and not for sale, but it’s easier to mark them as sold than to argue with someone who wants to buy them anyway.”

“You’re keeping them?”

He glanced at the one of her sitting in the swing. “Yes.” There was no way he’d let some man buy them, put them on his wall, and stare at her. A crowd was forming around them as people realized the subject of the paintings was here, and they were looking at her and trying to listen in on their conversation. He put his hand on her back. “Come with me.”

“Where’s your family? I thought they were all coming.”

“They’re upstairs, keeping Everly occupied for me in case you came. Once Ev knows you’re here, all bets are off. She missed you.” He paused a few beats, then put his mouth next to her ear. “But not as much as me.”

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